Sweet Italian Sausage

When I first went to visit J in California, on the night of our arrival she had prepared a beautiful supper of Lasagne made with Italian sausage. I had never tasted a lasagne so delicious and the Italian sausage was gorgeous. Ever since then I have tried to buy them, but nothing has come close. I tried to recreate the flavour by chucking fennel seeds in, but that didn't work. But then, by chance and by Googling something very unrelated, I came across this recipe, which called itself a recipe for sausage but advised not to bother putting them into casings as they will only be broken open and the meat extracted for cooking anyway!

 I made it and they were perfect (still not as good as J's lasagne!)

We had them the night before last with some fresh tagliatelle I had made and a rich tomato sauce. Last night I piled three flour tortilla wraps with a layer of tomato sauce with broken and fried pieces of the sausage meat, cheese on top, in the oven, delicious!


900g minced pork
1tbls Salt
1 tbls ground fennel seeds
1 1/2 tbls sweet paprika
1 tbls finely minced garlic
1 tbls black pepper
3 tbsp Red wine vinegar

Mix all of these together and, hey presto, sweet Italian sausages.

Bad Blogger & Barcelona Bear

I can't believe it was February when I last wrote something on this here blog. I should get 3 points on my blogging licence and a £60 fine.

During the five years previous to the last blog I was working in a school kitchen as assistant chef, I still don't know to this day who I was assistant to because as far as I could tell I was doing ALL the work, but to be fair the 'Head Chef' did take ALL the credit, so I suppose the job was split evenly!!

Being in that kitchen (nervous shudder) reminded me off 'Barcelona Bear" - when I was about 27 I took my daughter to Barcelona to stay with a friend, one of our days out took us to Barcelona zoo, not a lush green expanse of man made savanna with herds of happy, well behaved wild animals doing wild animal stuff. No. Barcelona zoo was a more a vast concreted landscape that, if photographed from space, would look like the surface of the moon and confuse astrologers - it was cratered with lots of small pits into which was dropped and chained a single animal, mainly bears, monkeys and wolves. The pit, the worst place on earth any creature should be kept in, had driven each creature mad and had thus become the safest place on earth to house them. I remember the bear.

Poor old brown bear, chained deep in his concrete pit. We looked down on him and watched as he rocked back and forth, driven mad by by the same view of grey concrete which surrounded him, driven mad by the same routine of nothingness, no other bear friends to talk to, not even a bare branch to look at. His chains limited his movement so in the end he just stayed in the same spot. He was tatty and thin. He just rocked back and forth, back and forth.

Well that was me, Barcelona Dinner Lady, driven mad by the same stainless steel surroundings, my limited movement confined to the perimeters of the kitchen, the same daily routine and listening to the constant, incessant moaning and whingeing of the 'Head Chef'. All HC did was repeatedly moan "I'm so thirsty" "ooh, I've got a really dry mouth" "I'm sooooo thirsty" " I need a drink" etc etc....these procrastinations would continue for a couple of hours until someone finally made a drink,  HC would forget to drink and spend the following two hours whingeing about how HC had forgotten to drink the tea and how thirsty HC still was. HC would also moan daily and weekly abut toothache or hip ache but never make a point of visiting a doctor or dentist. HC would moan about being too hot, too hungry, too busy (?? too busy doing what ??? Moaning?? there was nothing else going on in HC's direction) It slowly drove me mad. In my head I was screaming SHUT UP!!!

In March I escaped and started my new career within a company, a much larger pit to roam around in, lots of interesting things to look at and plenty of other friendly bears to talk to. A much happier concrete crater. I am still scarred though, I haven't been interested in food or cooking since my lucky escape but am sure and hope it will come back....I just need  a break.


Please note the bears in the photo were not harmed. The photo was taken under strict Animal Welfare Guidelines and after the shoot the bears were then given a huge hug, rub down, fed some honey and returned to their safe and lovingly reconstructed natural environment!

Le Tour de France

G's step-father has an apartment in Avoriaz, right in the heart of the French Alps. Stage eight of this year's Tour de France just happened to be finishing there so it seemed fairly stupid not to make the most of a perfect opportunity. So last Friday we made the ten hour drive, arriving at two in the morning, creased, tired and very excited.

It was the most fantastic day, I have never experienced anything like it, the people, the colour, the atmosphere, the noise, the carnival and those amazing cyclists. And it was all there for free! It must be the only major sporting event with so many world class athletes that you can go and watch without spending a fortune on tickets.

Barbecue on the Beach

It was a beautiful day today and we decided, at the last minute, to take the little disposable barbecue (that we never got round to using last year) to the nearby beach of Seasalter and have our tea there. We took some thinly sliced chicken and beef, a pack of sausages, lots of french bread, Ketchup and mustard. G packed the Gin and Tonic, our only luxury item.

The three children ate hot dogs and the strips of meat as it cooked. The bread was slathered with mayonnaise, mustard, Ketchup and coleslaw and tasted surprisingly good - probably a result of the mood and place in the same way Ouzo tastes so wonderful drunk in Greece, but bloody awful on a grey damp day in England!

We drove home full and tired, promising ourselves we should do it more often. There is so much on our doorstep and we don't see it!

Oakdene

Just off the London Road in Wrotham is a small, white single storey building. It looks very ramshackle and a little tired, with accidental garlands of light cables draped around it, peeling paintwork and grey windows. It sits silently, with the reverence of a Cathedral surrounded by motorbikes of every creed and colour. This is the Oakdene Cafe, a Shrine for its two-wheeled hungry pilgrims.

Inside there is always a full congregation; all walks of life indistinguishable in their uniform of black leathers, heavy boots, slogan T-shirts and neck buffs. Everyone equal and respectful in their roadside sanctuary.

I love it there and we always stop on our way through for a huge breakfast. On Good Friday, breaking up our journey to Bath, we ate breakfast at 9am, we both had the Oakdene Special and didn't feel hungry again until 6pm that evening! I am not going to wax lyrical about the food (and I certainly won't say anything negative through fear of rousing the mob!), it was a huge fry-up with a mug of tea, brown sauce and plenty of salt on the egg and tomato. Not recommended every day, but once in a while it's extremely good for you!

http://www.oakdenecafe.co.uk/